Dreamscape
by Chrissy McMorris
Summary: Lecter fanfic, set after Silence of the Lambs, off canon.
1. The Promise

Agent Clarice Starling, pioneer of useful F.B.I. agents, highly saught by every state where some major homicide had taken place: New Jersey, Kentucky, Illinois, New York; but no matter what was offered, she always tried to stay in the Baltimore area, under the supervision of Jack Crawford in the Behavioural Sciences department of the Bureau. However sometimes, just sometimes, a case file would catch her eye, usually one with multiple deaths, usually one with no evidence; no leads.  
  
This had turned out the be one of those days for her, the drug heist operation had gone badly, they hadn't anticipated weapons; hadn't suspected the dealers of more than just drug smuggling. As a result of her short- sitedness two good officers had been shot, both critically ill in the district hospital. She hadn't been able to stop beating herself up about it since it happened, all through the interview with Jack, for she was the officer in charge, despite only being a junior, she had more experience in the field than the fatcats at the top ever had. It had been one gruelling day of interviews, first with Jack Crawford, telling her she didn't have to feel, she was to be detached, it happened to the best of them. Then to the routine counsellors session which happened when 'tragic events' happened, where she had to be stripped down to her raw emotions, to reveal all. However, due to her stubborness and reluctance to share personal information, which she found to be both intrusive and unnecessary, this interview dragged on for even longer than expected. Therefore, it was gone nine by the time she finally sat down at her desk.  
  
The large room was home to several desks, her friend, Ardelia's next to hers, and it was lit by the most awful florescent lighting. She threw herself down on to her office chair, the first expression of despair she had allowed herself to show all day. Even now tears burned and pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to break free, but no. She would not allow herself this courtesy, she had work to do. She leant down to pick up the mountain of paperwork that had fallen on to the floor, sat back in the chair and just stared at the printed words jumping around the page. Sighing deeplym she allowed her hands to fall to her lap and leaned back, closing her eyes in defeat.  
  
There, in the tempest of her own mind, shifting and reshaping, there was only one constant, one pair of maroon eyes, staring, penetrating the fabric of her mind. She couldn't escape them, she had thought her association with Dr. Lecter was over the moment they hung up at her graduation party. In reality though, he was still with her, he would always be with her, in her, he was a part of her now, she could not escape him. Nor did she want to.  
  
"Clarice..."  
  
The sophisticated voice sliced through her brain like a knife through butter, she couldn't see, couldn't touch, couldn't taste, only hear that wonderous voice, reverberating around her head. Could it really be? She opened her eyes with a start to the blinding florescent lights.  
  
"Clarice.... how are..."  
  
Still the same voice. It wasn't some elaborate dream! A confused mixture of delight and dread filled her veins, until she forced herself to turn.  
  
Harsh light. 


	2. The Voice

"Doctor."  
  
She gasped, frozen in her chair, but with enough self awareness to slide her hand over her gun holster, ready to draw.  
  
"Well I've been called worse things. Come on, Starling, we're all tired, and unless you want to walk home."  
  
Clarice squinted a little, her eyes, at last, accustomed to the lighting. She whipped her hand away from her gun and almost leapt to her feet, in an uncharacteristic guilty manner. It was not the good doctor as she had hoped, 'expected' she convinced herself viciously. It was Tom Holden, tall, dark, big blue eyes, handsome, but also an arrogant know-it-all, with a superiority complex to rival Jesus.,  
  
"Whoa, Starling, I know you were a bit slow today, but there's no need to make up for it now, I'm not the bad guy here."  
  
"Let's just go home, Tom," Clarice cut in, disguising fatigue in her voice as they began to make their way down to the car park.  
  
"It must have been rough for you today, Starling, you know if you ever need a shoulder to cry on. my flat is always open to you."  
  
"I don't think that'll be necessary." she paused, "Thanks."  
  
"You know that the powers that be are talking don't you? They weren't too happy about your little escapade, Starling, it was supposed to be a set piece, trust a newbie to mess it up. Just too easy to get on our payroll nowadays, bit of media attention and baddabing, baddabang, welcome Ms. FBI."  
  
Now in the car and on the move Clarice could only block out the incessant drivel of Tom, keep the passive gaze in her eyes and just hope the journey home went quickly by. She knew, although didn't like to admit, that the reason for this bitterness was a combination of her spurning his advances, and also because he had been passed over for promotion, and he had clocked significantly less field time than her: he was jealous. He was getting desperate now; he liked to evoke a reaction,  
  
"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if they just passed over the whole suspension period for you, Starling, just fire you. Maybe you could go run off to your cannibalistic honey."  
  
He smirked as he spied a quick glance over in his direction and her jaw tighten,  
  
"Yeah, haven't you read the Tattler recently? It's their new cover story, their reason for your disappearance the other month. You ran off to your estranged lover and tied the knot,"  
  
A look of surprise passed over her features, she though all rumours regarding her and Dr. Lecter had disbanded,  
  
"Oh come on! You must have noticed the reporters crawling over your house. they're not exactly discreet."  
  
"Well anyone believing the trash published in that filth rag needs their head checking out anyway."  
  
He gave her a poignant look and in the spirit of not getting drawn in by him, Clarice, once again, fell into silence, but where once there was tranquillity in her mind, now it ran rampant with thoughts of the gossip on the peoples' lips. She couldn't help noticing the smug smile on his lips, and concluded that he was more than likely making it up, she would have heard something otherwise. Only one more turning to go and then she could shut herself up, away from the world for the next few hours, damn speed limits. After a silence of an entire minute, Tom's mouth opened again, but before he had a chance to utter a word fully he was cut off by the harsh ring of Clarice's cell phone, which she scooped up as fast as she could,  
  
"Agent Starling."  
  
"Ahh Clarice, I thought we were past first-name formalities now."  
  
The blood in her veins stopped running, as her eyes slid to Tom, trying to see if he was eavesdropping. He didn't appear to be listening, but she knew he would be, anyone would; she never received a social call. For that matter, how on earth did he have her number? What could she say to him? The pause was too great now to sound natural,  
  
"Come now, Clarice, it's rude to ignore an old friend."  
  
Shivers shot down her spine, but she couldn't seem to articulate the words that formed in her mind, at least not in a way which would keep the caller anonymous to the driver,  
  
"Is it Agent Holden, next to you? Will he object? Is he jealous, been trying to seduce you..?"  
  
She could just imagine his expression, intense, focused and perceptive. She glanced at Tom again with the slightest of grins at the left side of her mouth, they made such a contrast. Dr. Lecter with his high-powered perception, and Tom, who probably wouldn't notice the criminal if he danced in front of him, so long as it had nothing to do with him. She knew who she preferred, and for once, she didn't try to fight with the decision. With a sudden burst of apprehension, she realised the doctor had to be somewhere near, in fact, he had to be in a car. She twisted around in her seat, checking the area, but it was quiet at this time of night, there were only two cars round, one truck, too high to see into, and for whoever it was to see her, and a car, but there was a couple in there, and she couldn't see Dr. Lecter bringing someone along to see her. She heard a tutting on the other end of the line,  
  
"Tut tut, Clarice, you should know better by now. Don't you see?"  
  
"Yes, Sir, but I."  
  
"No. Again, Clarice, you see nothing when it is lay before you, everything in the distance. Look closer and you shall find what it is you seek."  
  
Her head hurt now, so far as she knew, she had nothing to look for. She was on no case, as far as she knew there was nothing or note going on nearby, why, and for what, did she need to look close to home for? Before she could reply, though, the disembodied voice filled her head,  
  
"Haven't you noted the time of year? Spring. The time of growth. The time of 'bunnies' and chicks. lambs. Watch your flock, Clarice, for some may go astray."  
  
She was taken aback, she knew what he was hinting at, she thought she knew what this cryptic ness meant, but she just couldn't apply it. She was going to have to wait to apply this to the next thing she needed help on; she would need to remember the key words and phrases, although the general gist was there. Something bad was going to happen, probably a crime, maybe a murder; it was going to be someone close to her, or someone she knew at least who was the culprit. It was the who, and the what which escaped her.  
  
"Sorry, my dear, I must dash, prior engagements, you see. Oh, watch he doesn't miss the turn."  
  
With that Lecter hung up, not allowing her chance to question him. She knew he wouldn't allow her to 'dissect' his knowledge, he preferred her to work for herself, come up with her own answers; he knew she could do it. To her surprise, she was indeed approaching the corner leading up her street, Tom making no attempt to slow down and turn on his indicators.  
  
"This is my stop."  
  
She said, trying to sound normal, despite having a five minute phone call where she spoke barely two words. Tom gave her a sidelong glance and grudgingly indicated, turning to the row of small houses and stopping outside number fifty-four. Clarice sighed, inwardly, happy to be home, but somewhat apprehensive about being left to her own company. However, she had faced worse things and there was hardly a pause before she undid her seat belt and opened the door. She felt Tom's hand on her arm, and she turned her head to him,  
  
"Hey, Starling. If you're in trouble with the bank manager you could always get rid of this place, it'd fetch quite a bit and there's always a bed over at *my* place. I wouldn't offer this to anyone, you know, but it's always there for you, my little bird."  
  
He grinned at her, smarmily and let go of her, expecting an over-dramatic pledge of gratitude. Clarice, on the other hand, shuddered physically, she couldn't repress it, just the thought of having to spend the night with this man sickened her.  
  
"That's alright, thanks, Tom. I think I'll manage. Thanks for the lift. Bye."  
  
Before he could say anything else she jumped out the car and slammed the door shut, remaining there just to make sure he could start the car again and get home himself. However, all went well and as soon as he was just two taillights in the distance, she jogged up the short path to the house and let herself in. 


End file.
